


Alone

by queercoffee



Category: Elyza Lex (Fanverse)
Genre: F/F, lexark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queercoffee/pseuds/queercoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elyza Lex meets Alicia Clark and realizes there's at least one pro to not being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually very nervous to post this. I used to write for other fandoms but my desire to continue usually faded or I felt like I wasn't good enough. But Clexa/Lexark is very important to me, and so I thought I'd try again. Therefore, any positive comments would be greatly appreciated to help keep me going on this fic. I don't want to let my insecurities keep me from enjoying another fandom.

Elyza was grateful she was wearing black. Not that she ever wore anything else, or that the monsters in the streets could exactly 'see', but because there was more than the walking dead to be wary of. She'd heard footsteps echoing down the streets she'd passed: consistent, slapping, sharp footsteps. Not shuffling, not muffled, not dragging. Human footsteps. Either the other person was in danger, or she was about to be.

Either way, she had to keep moving. Her thumb wore a faded print against the flat top of her gun, her brows furrowing together as she waited for a signal- run, or run. She adjusted her position against the wall, turning her head to look out on the street ever so slightly. Nothing. Her nerves were frayed from the chase before, she was on edge about even the slightest hint of normalcy.

But she had to keep going.

The girl stepped out from her cover, hunched and gun pointed down. She quickly made her way to another corner, beside a house. If she could just get inside...

She again stepped out, her left hand free and fingers loosened just enough to grab for the machete strapped to her back. She kept her breathing in check, jumping when a clatter around the way sounded- particularly harsh against the silence she'd found herself accustomed to.

"Shit," she huffed, twirling herself around the corner to meet the confused, fallen undead that had stumbled out of the house, off the porch, and into a trash can beside the building. If Elyza hadn't found herself laughing at the image, she would have found the body crumpled inside the metal can grotesque. She crouch-walked to the container, kicking it over to empty it and hopefully save the bullet from ringing too loudly against the metal.

"Jason," she muttered, the walker unconsciously clawing after her. The zombie wore a blue janitor uniform, with a nametag, and his stringy hair- or what remained of it- was tousled but clearly slicked back. Casual douche bag look. Elyza lifted her sword, bringing it down with a sickening, yet somehow satisfying crunch. She had the feeling the guy wasn't too kind, even before he turned undead.

She took a large step over the side of the porch, pressing herself against the side of the doorway. It was likely Jason was alone, but she couldn't take any chances. After all, she knew she wasn't alone- be it with the undead or otherwise. Caution never failed.

The interior was simple. Soft chairs decorated the living room, a central rug and a fireplace against the back wall, lined with photographs she'd rather not look at. The place wasn't a mess like she'd though it'd be- strewn papers, clothes, an evident course of a rushed escape. She assumed Jason had taken his own word over the news and others', kept to his house and thought he'd be fine. The only noticeable change was the kitchen, silverware spilling over the counter and a knife beside them, covered in blood.

Looking down, Elyza found the flaw in Jason's plan. A walker still growled and snatched at the air around her. The knife from the table had clearly made a mark, slicing into the young woman's shoulder and leaving half the decayed flesh hanging. Jason had died with good intentions and only half the idea and effort he'd needed to survive. If only he'd known to go for the head.

But some people can't be educated. Elyza knew that.

She moved around the corpse and to the fridge, noticing there was still a reasonable amount of food inside. She filled her bag with the most durable food items first, before moving to the stairs she’d seen upon entrance. She ascended quickly, her sword in hand. Her thumb still pressed a familiarly shaped print against the metal, wearing, wearing, wearing the flat down.

The rest of the house remained unscathed by the apocalypse. It seemed Jason had lived alone, with much to compensate for. Elyza felt more than uncomfortable even thinking about Jason’s room, and avoided the door at the end of the hall. She continued to the bathroom, stocking up on toothpaste, ‘stealing’ an unopened tooth brush. She felt better having the bare necessities of life, or what she just preferred to carry around besides guns and a machete on her back.

Elyza ran through the house once more, ensuring her safety before dead-bolting the doors and setting heavy furniture against them. She turned off the lights, threw her bag in the corner of the living room, and set to shoving the dead bodies in the house down the basement stairs. She had little to no respect for Jason or the reason he existed as he was; she didn’t know them, after all, and she was already taking over his home.

When all was relatively safe - and clean - Elyza laid back on the couch, a heavy grunt leaving her lips as she rested her sore muscles. Closing her eyes, she vaguely remembered hoping her fortifications were worthy enough, before falling asleep.


End file.
